


Human

by Patcho418



Category: RWBY
Genre: F/F, Fluff, Poetic, This is literally just me making Dodie all about the Bees, based on Dodie's 'Human' EP, cause let's be real every song fits, it's very self-indulgent, let me be poetic and wordy pls
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-04
Updated: 2019-08-20
Packaged: 2020-02-18 12:30:54
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 8
Words: 6,545
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18699655
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Patcho418/pseuds/Patcho418
Summary: A collection of Bumbleby shorts based on the Dodie EP 'Human'.





	1. She

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _And she smells like lemongrass and sleep  
>  She tastes like apple juice and peach  
> Oh you would find her in a Polaroid picture  
> And she means everything to me_

Yang’s beautiful, and Blake is in love.

It’s not something she notices immediately, of course. At first, it’s stolen glances, the way Yang draws her eye even for a moment with a smile or a flip of her hair or even in moments where she does nothing and is still incredibly gorgeous. 

Soon, stolen glances become longing stares. Blake knows Yang is gorgeous, but when she stares she becomes even more amazed at just how gorgeous Yang is. Her smile always beams, even on grey days and even during miserable times. Her golden hair frames her face perfectly, wild and exciting and oh how Blake wishes she could run her hands through those perfect golden curls. 

When she knows how gorgeous Yang is, she begins to notice other things, too. The sweet but subtle scent of citrus, stronger when she’s using her aura but faint even after training and while they’re studying together. The way her voice chimes and sings every word, a song in every sentence, and how nothing is more pleasant to listen to than when Yang says ‘good morning’ or ‘hello’ or how Blake hears _I love you_ in her head like a song.

Blake is in love, and she knows this can’t be good. Love stings, she knows that. It’s not supposed to feel good. It’s painful and harsh and withers away at the heart until there’s nothing left to love, and yet she doesn’t feel any of that when she thinks of Yang. None of the pain or misery of devotion, none of the disappointment when she realises that love lied to her and told her things could be good and sunny, because when she looks at Yang, when she beams at her or sings her name, good and sunny is exactly how it feels.

If this is love, real, _actual love_ , then it still stings.

It stings because she knows she shouldn’t have let herself fall this hard. Love is messy and dangerous, she’s known this from the start, and she can’t let her guard down for anything or anyone. She can’t let them hurt that way. And it stings because she knows as much as she wants to let Yang in, she can’t bring her into her life without her getting hurt in one way or another. There are shadows in her life that threaten to take away anything she lets in; it’s better to keep them out, then.

Despite the days where it’s the two of them, sitting alone in the sunlight, lying against each-other in the soft grass; despite the nights where her past grabs at her and tugs at her and threatens to take her away again and Yang is there to put the pieces of her back; despite every stolen glance and longing gaze and the scent of lemon and her picturesque smile, she knows she’s in love, and it stings to know just how much she’s in love with Yang.

The only thing that stops her from stinging is when she catches Yang’s eye, and she can swear for a moment that maybe she feels the same.


	2. Arms Unfolding

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _But here I am with arms unfolding_   
>  _I guess it isn‘t quite the end_   
>  _Oh, partner in crime_   
>  _I'm going to try_   
>  _To fall in love with you_   
>  _Again_

There she is.

Blake can hardly believe her eyes, her vision hazy as if she’s walked right into a dream. She’s sure she’s dreamt this moment, too, this moment where she’s with her again. After all the fighting, the hugging, the tears still forming in the corners of her eyes, she still can’t believe that she’s here with her. 

She sees Yang and all she can think is how easy it is to fall in love with her all over.

Yang looks towards her, and something unfamiliar sparks in her eyes; Blake’s stomach knots, chest tightening. It’s not a look she’s been expecting, but it’s not a look she’s been wanting. It’s unreadable, smoky and obscuring, and she wishes she could figure it out. Yang’s always been an open book, not a mystery like she’s always tried to make herself, but now she feels so distant and unwelcome under her gaze.

She steps forward; everyone else around them is busying themselves with fixing things, checking if everyone’s alright, passing around words and relics and orders, but Blake can only focus on Yang as she eyes the rest of the room, arms folded over her chest.

There’s so much that Blake has to tell her, so much they have to talk about. The pit in her stomach grows, gnawing at her doubts. 

She ran away. _Will she understand?_

She had to do it, he made her do it. _Will she accept that answer?_

She just wanted to protect her. _And she just needed her there._

Could she ever forgive her? _How much does she hate her?_

There’s so much to talk about, so much to explain, so much to justify. She can’t even place the words in her mouth when she thinks about that look in Yang’s eyes, that look that she hardly even recognized. Have they really grown this far apart? Is there any chance to salvage, well, anything? Should there be?

She stops in front of Yang, her lips dry and her eyes wet with unshed tears. She crosses her hands over each other, takes a deep breath, dares to look her in the eye. 

Yang’s looking at her expectantly. “Yeah?” 

Blake barely hides a shudder; even her voice is unfamiliar all of a sudden, cold and biting in a way she would never expect from her. She shuffles nervously, shaking away the chills of the word, breathes again, ready to try again.

“Can we talk?”

Yang exhales—it’s a harsh enough sound to make Blake’s chest tighten more—and lifts her hand behind her neck; Blake can’t help but notice it’s her right arm, her prosthetic arm, the arm she gave to protect her that she repaid by leaving her.

“Blake, it’s been a rough night. I’m tired.”

Blake nods solemnly. She shouldn’t have expected any less, arriving in the middle of a battle after almost a year apart and asking after so much that Yang just be ready to talk, to forgive her after months for what she did, the pain she probably put her through. 

Her head dips in understanding. “Alright.” Now its her own voice she doesn’t recognize, low and miserable, hidden by a firm stability she masks her own hurt with. She knows she has no right to hurt, not after everything, but she can’t help it. She’d really like to try it all again, different words and different excuses.

Yang’s arms unfold and hang at her sides, and Blake peers up, expecting that unrecognisable gaze in her eyes. Instead, she sees soft lilac, almost sorrowful, and a look that she knows far too well. 

_Maybe._

That maybe hangs in the air between them for a moment, locking their eyes together, and it’s that small hope that Blake reaches for, that _maybe we’ll get the chance,_ that _maybe we can sort this out,_ that _maybe I’d be willing to try again._

Yang averts her gaze, looking at the rest of the room, their friends gathering together around a strange blue lantern. She nods in that direction and begins to make her way over, and Blake just follows with her eyes for a moment before she too goes to join the group.

She slides in behind them, a stranger among her own friends, and Yang steps aside for her to join them, and she only hopes that falling in love all over again will be easy for her, too.


	3. Human

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Paint me in trust_   
>  _I'll be your best friend_   
>  _Call me the one_   
>  _This night just can't end_   
>  _I'm so human_   
>  _We're just human_

Night isn’t supposed to be so suffocating, but tonight Yang can hardly feel herself breathe. She gazes out the window, her eyes trained on the starless sky, and hopes that the shadows don’t make Blake lose her way out there.

Her partner does this, and more frequently these days. When something is on her mind, she’ll go for long, solitary walks around the campus, usually not returning until Weiss and Ruby are fast asleep (Yang would be asleep, too, but she’d rather be awake when Blake returns). Everything has been getting to her recently: she flinches during training where normally she’d fight back, she sneers at anyone who mentions the upcoming dance, she lashes out when someone so much as mentions ‘taking a break’.

It stings to see her like this.

To her left, Ruby snores soundly while Weiss’ eyes remain fixed on her; she’d be a lot more creeped out by pale eyes in the shadows if she didn’t see the concern behind them.

A sigh escapes Weiss’ lips. “She’s still not back?”

“Not yet,” Yang confirms, shaking her head. “You should get some sleep, Weiss.”

“And what about you?” Though she’s whispering, her voice cuts through the air. “You’re always awake waiting for her.”

“She’s my teammate. It’s my job to look out for her,” Yang says softly.

Weiss’ lips purse. “Then why not go after her?”

Yang exhales. She’s considered it, too, going after Blake into the night. She’s considered it all, and that’s why she knows none of it will work. Blake keeps her secrets, that’s nothing new. Yang’s never quite been able to dig deep enough to figure out what’s on her mind, what’s ever bothering her or what has her attention.

But Yang knows all she needs to know. She knows Blake likes her privacy, likes to keep people out ‘for their own good’, and as much as Yang disagrees with that, she knows better than to try and challenge Blake on that. She’ll open up when she wants to, like she has before. She’s not going to pry, she’s not going to stalk, she’s going to listen to what Blake says, do what Blake needs.

Still, she can’t help but want to do something. Despite the privacy she claims to need, Yang knows it’s not always going to be good for her. She won’t pry, she won’t stalk, but she’s certainly not going to sit back and let Blake destroy herself. She needs to do something, and she’ll wait for the right moment to do it.

Weiss offers a sharp huff. “You’re only human, Yang.”

Yang doesn’t answer Weiss, hoping her silence will give her all she needs to lessen her worry. It isn’t long, either, before Weiss is sound asleep as well, and Yang once more has to keep herself awake until Blake returns. 

She stares back into the night sky, hoping not to let her mind wander. It’s happened before, and she’s thought about how much she wishes Blake would open up to her. They’re partners, after all, and Yang’s opened up plenty of times about plenty of things. She wishes she didn’t find it unfair, wishes she could just accept Blake’s privacy as that, but there are things she wishes she could know. She wants to be let in, wants to be someone Blake can trust—no, the one Blake can trust. 

But is she breaking her trust by wanting to know these things? Blake keeps her secrets, but she doesn’t want there to be secrets between them. She wants to peel back the layers of mystery she’s surrounded herself with, see the truth so she can know what to say, what to do to make things better for her. What secrets is she hiding from her? Why can’t she let her in so she can do _something_?

Yang sighs; she knows she shouldn’t feel this way, and yet it’s almost impossible not to. She won’t pry, she won’t stalk, that should be enough, but it won’t stop her from wanting Blake to trust her, to let her be there to catch her and keep her intact instead of tearing herself apart like this. Maybe Yang really is just nosy, or maybe she’s only human.

Or maybe it’s because she knows how much she’s in love with her.

Maybe it’s because she knows how much she wants to support Blake in everything she does—Yang’s never found someone this devoted and this driven. It’s admirable, and it makes her want to follow her, be there to open up to, console when she’s miserable and admire when she’s incredible. Maybe she just wants to make Blake smile—she rarely smiles anymore—and help to keep her from falling apart when she feels the world turning against her.

Yang knows she can’t push, despite how much she really wants to. She knows it’ll only drive Blake away, and that’s something she knows would hurt just as much for both of them. So she’ll do the only thing she can right now and wait for Blake to come back for the night and hope that she can open up soon.


	4. If I'm Being Honest

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Could you love this?_   
>  _Will this one be right?_   
>  _Well, if I'm being honest_   
>  _I'm hoping it might_   
>  _Could you love this?_   
>  _Did you plan to fall?_   
>  _Well, if I'm being honest_   
>  _Oh, I bet it's not that at all_

Yang opens the door to RWBY’s dorm room, and a quick scan of the area confirms that she’s the only one there. She closes the door behind her, makes sure it’s secure, and when she’s certain that no one will be able to hear or interrupt her, she leans back against the door and squeals in delight.

Her fists ball up, all the sizzling energy in her body coursing with nowhere to go but everywhere all at once, and Yang has to focus on not pounding her fists against the door just to release some of that energy. Her chest tightens around her racing heart, each thump resonating in her ears like an excited drum beat.

 _Blake_. The way her name forms on her lips causes her to smile, the ghost of her touch a memory she feels on her skin, and she hopes it stays. Everything about her eyes, always as if deep in thought, and oh how Yang wants to see her thoughts, unravel the mystery that she is. Everything about her smile, a rare gift she knows Blake saves for intimate moments with the few she holds dear, and Yang smiles just knowing she gets to be the one to see it.

Her hands reach up to hug her shoulders and she lets out another easy, unrestrained giggle, stepping away from the door in an overjoyed waltz until stopping at the desk under the window. She rests against it, though her legs still shake with the uncontrollable urge to dance, to kick, to bounce, anything to release the excitement in her body.

She peers pleasantly outside with a fixed grin; the sun is out, the sky is clear of any clouds, and Yang can’t think of a more perfect day to be absolutely head-over-heels in love. Sunlight beams down onto her as if giving her the energy she needs to handle even a single thought of the girl she can’t stop thinking about, the girl whose name rings in her head like a chorus one moment and dances on her tongue like a prayer the next.

Yang can’t exactly say that it’s a familiar feeling; she’s flirted before, kissed enough girls to usually know what she’s doing. But this? This is so far from that, as if she’s lost all control of her heart and now it’s on the verge of bursting, taking all of her energy to keep it from doing so. The words hover in her throat like an itch, even murmuring them to herself is enough to cause another giggle to sound, and why shouldn’t she giggle? Blake is beautiful and incredible and if Yang can’t help but smile when she thinks of her, can’t help but feel unbridled joy she’s never felt before, then what’s the point of being in love?

She stills herself against the desk, remembering the wide-open window behind her and how silly she must look to anyone who might pass by. Of course, it’s no help to her, and even a second of stillness does nothing to calm her excitement. It bubbles in her chest, spreading through her curling fingers, and every breath she takes is deep and sweet and tastes of whatever happiness tastes like—she can’t quite place it, but it must be good because her grin stretches further across her face.

Maybe she’ll tell Ruby? They’re always open with each other, especially about the things that bring them joy.

Or maybe Weiss? They’re not as close, but she’s sure her teammate would be willing to listen to Yang gush about her partner.

She stands from the desk and marches towards the door; maybe she’ll tell Blake. Admit how much she really likes her, tell her how gorgeous she is, how every brush of her hand against her skin sends her into the most beautiful high, how every glance makes her heart swell to the point where she could just sing to the world. She wants to let the world know how she feels, how amazing this girl is, how in love she is.

Because if Yang’s being honest, she is in love, and nothing excites her more.

She only hopes that Blake could love her, too.


	5. Burned Out

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Don't build hope on something broken_   
>  _I am not cartoon_   
>  _Cry for help, I am not joking_   
>  _I might just leave soon._

Yang wakes up to an empty bed. 

_Of course it’s empty._

When she sits up, it’s slow and pained. When she breathes in the morning air, it’s acrid and dense and smoky. When she checks her scroll, she’s met with what she fell asleep looking at: that damn fight in the arena, thousands of views, and _gods_ she’s never hated the bloody red in her eyes this much.

The comments on the video are mixed; people cursing her out for such a disgraceful and brutal attack, people sending their love to that damn liar and their hollow hopes that he’ll get better, and it’s just so tiring to look at.

The screen goes blank. She has better things to do than to keep punishing herself.

_It’s still empty._

She can’t say lying in her bed is exactly a better thing to do. Yang’s used to being on the move, to dancing, to fighting, all things that make her sick to her stomach just thinking about. She’s never felt so leaden, so static as she floats without even a spark of energy to help her break the surface, and suffocating in the persistent smell of smoke and of lavender seems to be about the only thing she can do.

_Empty._

Her sluggish feet touch the floor beneath her—her bed is where she can’t be right now—and begin towards the door, the hallway, the kitchen (the further she is from that room, the better). She finds her way to the kitchen, and smoke fills the room and her lungs, so she braces herself against the door—

Wood slams into her side, bypassing her arm completely and forcing her to her knees. For a moment, she gasps for breath, and the smoke takes its place in her lungs as she hacks and wheezes against the ground; maybe if she weren’t so heavy, she’d be able to lift herself up.

_So fucking heavy._

Before she can move, there are already hands all over her. She should panic, she should lash out at that damn _monster_ trying to reach for her, but wouldn’t it just be better to lie still and choke on heat and the taste of iron in her throat?

“You alright, Yang?” It’s her dad’s voice. It’s warm but burdened with worry, and she hates how she recoils from it.

But she still can’t exactly stand on her own, her skin magnetic, pulled to the ground beneath her. She lets him help her to her feet, and she feels sick again as she steadies herself against him.

When she’s upright, he hovers around her, making sure she’s okay, and no she’s not okay—obviously she’s not okay—but she won’t say anything about it. Instead, her eyes move to the source of the smoke, suddenly lighter and less suffocating than earlier, to see the breakfast her dad’s making.

“It’s eggs and bacon, I made some for you if you want!” Tai offers, his concerned expression transforming into something soft, something supportive, something to hide the obvious worry she can see no matter what expression he wears.

She sighs. “I’m fine, dad.”

_Fine._

“Oh!” Tai exclaims as if suddenly remembering something as he moves out of the kitchen for a moment, returning promptly with another damn envelope in his hand. “You got another letter! Snail mail, so reliable!” He offers her the letter, and of course it doesn’t have _her_ name on it. She always looks for it.

_She’s not coming back._

She takes the envelope, recognizes the signature brown colour that Coco always writes in, feels the thick paper of polaroid photos. The letter inside says something about Vacuo, about her recovery, some drab phrases about _sorry_ and _hurts_ and _take care_ , and Yang could care less as she moves to the living room and tosses it onto the pile of letters she keeps getting from the people who aren’t her.

_She left you._

Yang feels sick. She wishes she could care more, she wants to smile when she knows her friends care just as much as she once did.

_You’re on your own._

The heat of the kitchen reaches her, and Yang hates how the heat feels against her skin; she’s grown to hate the fire of her own body, the burning smell of smoke and the sparks of her hair against her scalp. 

_Empty. Heavy._

Yang stands in the living room, still and tired, her limbs weighted and her breaths hollow and her eyes stinging with tears she wishes she could cry.

But she’ll never talk about it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So this one got personal because the song gets personal for me...sorry if this was angstier than you were hoping for.
> 
> Thank you all for reading this collection of shorts! I really love Dodie's music and so many of these songs just made me think of her, y'all have no idea! If you want more of this, I'll probably be writing more based on her other EP's cause I have some ideas. Thank you so much for all your kudos and comments, it really makes me so happy and makes me want to keep writing for you all!


	6. Would You Be So Kind

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _I think it's only fair_   
>  _There's gotta be some butterflies somewhere_   
>  _Wanna share?_   
>  _'Cause I like you_   
>  _But that's not enough_   
>  _So if you will_   
>  _Please fall in love with me_

“You’ve got this, Xiao Long!” Yang murmurs to herself confidently, focusing her attention on the steps she takes, the way each footfall is echoed by the thump of her heart.

She’s rehearsed this, albeit only with Ruby, but practice is practice. The first time, of course, she couldn’t help but stumble over every word and sputter through her sentences—no, that of course wouldn’t do. Neither, apparently, would laying on the flirty charm, and being honest was what they’d decided would be best.

 _"You’re beautiful,"_ she’d said. _"And incredible and breathtaking. Blake, I think I’m in love with you!"_

Yang takes in a deep breath, and the faint scent of violets floating into her nose. Her fingers delicately fidget with the flowers between them, careful not to bend or break the stem from the build-up of energy tensing her arms. 

Hopefully she’s not too much of an anxious mess to tell Blake how she really feels—about her beauty and incredibleness and her ability to take Yang’s breath away, of course, but also how much they connect, how fighting beside her comes as naturally as breathing, how Blake seems to brighten up around her just as she feels grounded and safe with Blake. 

Yang is in love with Blake. Surely, Blake must feel something similar. Maybe her chest aches when she’s not around Yang the way Yang’s does? Or maybe there are butterflies in her stomach any of the many times Yang smiles at her? She can only hope.

She steps outside, the sun bathing the courtyard in its golden glow while blue stretches overhead, cloudless and soft. The green leaves of the trees sway in the very gentle breeze, their rustling a comfort in the otherwise still scenery. 

And ahead, shaded from the sun under those rustling leaves, is Blake. Her knees are close to her chest, a book balancing between them and her fingers as her eyes slowly trail along the page. Yang can’t help but grin softly at the sight, a moment like a still painting she’d be so willing to put up in a gallery; right now, though, there is only her to see it, and maybe that’s why Blake looks all the more beautiful.

Yang hides her arms behind her back, hoping to keep at least the flowers a surprise, and takes a cautious step forward. All of that rehearsal, all of her worrying and anticipation and the several Lien she spent on flowers, it’s all brought her to here, to now, to the moment she’ll tell Blake how she feels—and, if Blake would be so kind, she’ll return those feelings.

Blake brings her thumb to her lips and gently licks it before bringing it back to the page to turn it, and suddenly that aching in Yang’s chest is back. How could something so small and simple drive her so wild? She stifles an infatuated whimper, though clearly not well enough, as Blake’s bow twitches ever so slightly.

She looks up from her book and spots Yang— _it’s now or never, Xiao Long!_ —and greets her with a gentle smirk. “Hi, Yang.” Then, her nose scrunches slightly. 

Yang clutches the flowers behind her back closer to her futilely and offers her trademark wide grin; it’s not forced, Yang can’t force anything around Blake. “Heya! Thought I’d find you out here!”

Blake sets her book down— _that’s a good sign_ —and stands, a curious look on her now reddening face. “You…were looking for me?”

“Yeah, I…” The aching gets stronger, more forceful, and she takes another step forward.

Blake’s nostrils flare again for a moment, and her face softens. “You smell different today…”

_Now or never._

Another step forward, and now she’s under the shadow of the tree, close enough to Blake to see the few dandelion seeds clinging to her midnight hair and the subtle flick of her eyes down to Yang’s arms and back up to her eyes.

“I, uh…I have a question,” Yang begins in a low voice that shakes with anxiety and excitement. “Well, less of a question. More of a confession, really, which could lead to a question if I’m not a total mess after I’ve said what I want to say.”

“Yang?”

Yang inhales and brings her arms forward, holding the bouquet of violets between her and Blake. Blake’s eyes fall to them and go wide as her lips part ever so slightly; if Yang didn’t know any better, she’d swear she could see pink rush across her cheeks and under her eyes, but she’s too preoccupied with the butterflies in her own tummy about what comes next.

“I got you these cause they’re pretty, and, well, they’re purple and yellow and, you know, you and I are purple and yellow, and—” her arms drop very slightly, “—and well I really like you, Blake. You’re amazing and breathtaking and there are days where I’m so, like…”

She deflates, the words falling out of her mouth like stale air, and suddenly everything is empty and still. Her fingers curl around the stems tighter, her eyes stinging in the corners. She had everything planned, every word she wanted to say, every way Blake made her feel completely enamoured, and of course she would fall apart in the moment.

They remain still for a moment, but Yang’s heart can’t stop beating and her stomach can’t stop turning. She hazards a glance up at Blake, hoping maybe to see a smile or something to put her at ease. Instead, she’s met with hooded eyes stuck to the flowers between them and red cheeks and hesitance in her expression, and Yang wishes they could swap hearts if even more a moment, just to let Blake know how much she means to her, and to know just how much she means to Blake, if anything at all.

Then, a sudden warmth on her knuckles. Yang glances back down to the flowers just as Blake’s fingers curl over hers; immediately, her heart begins to race again and a warm blush spreads through her cheeks.

“Yang, you have no idea how much I wanted to say those words to you.” She looks upward, and she’s smiling brighter than Yang’s ever seen her before. “I really like you, too. And I think you’re amazing, and sweet, and kind, and beautiful, and I’m so glad I can say it.”

A soft giggle slips past Yang’s lips. “You can say it again, if you want.”

Blake smiles as she pulls the flowers—and Yang’s hand—closer towards her chest. “I really like you, Yang.”

“I really like you too, Blake.” And Yang can’t help but return the smile, can’t help but want to leap for joy and cry the words out into the blue sky, can’t help the way her eyes wet the wider her smile grows. “I like you a whole lot!”

She’s pulled closer again and her heart nearly skips several whole beats. Her and Blake are now standing barely an inch apart, her blonde bangs brushing lightly against Blake’s forehead. 

“I, uh…did you wanna sit for a bit?” Blake murmurs softly, and Yang can’t think of anything she’d want to do more. They stand together for a moment longer before Blake pulls away, smile still on her lips, and slides back down to the base of the tree.

Yang giddily joins her, sitting close to Blake as she picks her book up. “I can’t believe I’m reading under a tree with my girlfriend!” And there’s the butterflies again, swirling in her stomach right as she catches herself. “Unless…sorry, that was probably too quick or like—”

Blake chuckles. “I’m glad we’re on the same page.” She pauses, her lips pursed. “‘Girlfriend’. I think that works for me.”

The feelings in Yang’s chest and stomach settle as Yang rests her head on Blake’s shoulder, glancing at the pages before the two of them and the flowers sitting in Blake’s lap before taking another look at Blake’s pleased expression. “’Girlfriend’. I’m glad, too.”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya fam! So for those of you who listen to dodie too much like I do you'll know this song is actually from a different album but quite frankly I just wanted to write more dodie-based songs, anyways I hope you enjoy and stay tuned for more!


	7. In the Middle

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _You said you're into closure_   
>  _Shake hands like you're supposed to_   
>  _I'll be in the middle_   
>  _While you two get along_

“Hey Weiss! What are you doing Friday?”

Weiss peers up from her papers, startled by the sudden intrusion of Yang in her workspace. Once they’d finished their training (oh, and saved the world), Weiss was sure she would finally have some peace and quiet as she worked to help rebuild the SDC. Training to slay Grimm certainly didn’t cover how to fill out paperwork, skim quickly through documents and pick out important points, or plan multiple meetings and visits in less than a week.

Of course she’s busy Friday. She hasn’t _stopped_ being busy.

“Why do you ask?” she says brusquely. 

Yangs pouts for a moment, then takes a breath as she leans back lazily in the white armchair she’s apparently taken up residence in. “Well, Blake and I got coupons for this restaurant we’ve been meaning to check out, but the deal needs three people, and I was thinking you might wanna go in on it with us!”

Weiss purses her lips and doesn’t look up from her work. “Ask Ruby.”

“She’s out of town.”

“Your father?”

“It’s a seafood place, Weiss,” Yang says deadpan as if it’s supposed to mean something to Weiss. When she doesn’t respond, Yang groans and sits forward. “He’s allergic.”

Weiss sets her pen down and sighs. Okay, so maybe she’d be lying if she said she was busy on Friday; in fact, Friday is often the one night in a long and tiresome work week that she sets aside for herself if she can. But that’s set aside for _herself_ , for relaxing with a glass of wine, a soothing bath, maybe a film she hasn’t gotten the chance to see quite yet. 

Her ideal Friday doesn’t involve being a third wheel on Blake and Yang’s date just so that they can save a few dollars.

“I’d rather not, Yang. I only have so much time to myself.”

Yang slumps back again, her arms hanging over the armrests as she moans at the ceiling. “Come on, Weiss! It’ll be fun, and you haven’t hung out with us in so long!”

“Yang…”

“It’ll be fun! Just the three of us, like a food threesome!”

Weiss rolls her eyes. “And when you say it like that, I am suddenly far less interested.”

She’s sure by this point, Yang must get the idea, as she stands from the chair groggily and crosses her arms in front of her. “Fine, we’ll ask someone else. Have fun watching those lame romance flicks.”

“I will, thank you very much.” Weiss crosses her own arms, challenges Yang, a clash of ice and fire. It’s very rare that they get on each others’ nerves anymore, but when they do it’s intense, a storm brewing in between their glares.

Weiss can only imagine what an awkward third-wheeling night with Blake and Yang could look like. They certainly weren’t subtle, per se, even when they weren’t dating. Little stolen glances, laughing way too hard at each others’ lame jokes, trying so desperately to get close to each other without being sure if it was too forward, oh they were _sickeningly_ hopeless. 

And of course it didn’t get much better when they finally started dating. Little stolen glances became long stares and heart-eyes, trying to get close became literally not being able to let go of each others’ hands or waists or faces…she’s sure Blake hadn’t laughed more in her life than when she began dating Yang. They get along so well, holding hands and smiling and talking about their taste in women (spoiler alert: it’s each other, unless Blake’s ‘fiery blondes that can bench five of me’ preference excludes her own girlfriend).

She’s happy for them. She has _always_ been happy for them. Even when she herself was struggling with maybe feelings for Blake when she was first discovering herself—Blake is pretty beautiful, she won’t lie—and definitely feelings for Yang, who she didn’t even realize she could like until seeing her after so long apart, she knew they were perfect for each other. They _are_ perfect for each other.

Weiss just likes closure, that’s all. And third-wheeling certainly wouldn’t do much to help in that field. 

Unless…well, Yang did say ‘food threesome’.

Weiss shakes the thought away before it can go any further.

_But they’re such a power couple, it could be fun!_

“Weiss?”

_Do you think you could make either of them smile like they make each other smile?_

“Weiss?”

It’s too late: she’s already thinking about it. Maybe dinner could be fun, actually. They could order the lobster or something, maybe some shrimp, and Weiss can already see Yang offering her some with a coy smile on her face. Maybe when they’re finished having supper, Blake will ask her to take the bill— _“You are a Schnee,”_ imaginary Blake teases with a wink usually only reserved for Yang.

“Weiss!”

But what would they do with the rest of their night? She’s not entirely sure what Blake and Yang get up to most nights, though she has ideas, and she hates to admit that she’s maybe a little curious. Does Yang.....well, is she on top? No, it must be Blake. _Clearly_ it's Blake. Or maybe not. Maybe they switch? 

_How would it work with a third?_

Or, of course, there’s always some white wine and one of those cheesy romance flicks that are on late at night for lonely people like her or tipsy couples and their lonely friend…like her. Maybe it would be nice to spend some time with her friends. Who are in a very committed relationship. And who she had crushes on at some point in her life. And she can’t help but think, despite how weird it might be, she might be into—

“Weiss!!”

Weiss shakes the thoughts away again, this time trying a little harder not to let them intrude again. She readjusts herself in her chair and clears her throat, paying no mind to the suspicious way Yang watches her. “Yes, Yang?”

“You zoned out there. You okay?”

“I’m…fine! Thank you for asking!” Ah yes, her forced smile. She absolutely has to work on that one. Before she can let the awkward moment settle, she picks up her papers again and gets back to the task at hand. 

Yang pauses and shifts her weight onto one hip. “So…you’re still a no for Friday, then?”

“I’ll think about it.”


	8. Intertwined

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> _Oh, I'm afraid of the things in my brain_   
>  _But we can stay here_   
>  _And laugh away the fear_

Blake’s head rests heavily against the arm hooked securely under her pillow, her eyes trailing the features of Yang’s face and shoulders, somehow still bright even under the shadow of night. Her eyes trail along her cheeks, dotted with small, precious freckles that curl under her resting eyes. They trail along her jaw cradling a tangle of golden hair, spilling between her gently parted lips as she breathes softly against her pillow.

Blake nudges her bare leg forward, pulling the blanket with her as she brushes against Yang’s calf; her skin is warm, soft despite calluses and scars and wounds from the dangerous lives they both live, and Blake remembers why touching Yang is so important to her, why it’s so sacred.

Why she’s so scared.

Not of Yang—Blake could _never_ be scared of Yang—but of the idea of not having her here, of voices and images in her brain telling her lies she wishes she could dream away. She knows it would never happen, she knows as much as she’s promised Yang she’ll never leave her Yang has promised the exact same.

But it can’t be helped. When Blake thinks of losing Yang, of the absence she could one day feel in her bed, of nights where they’ve bled together, of how she’s only gotten lucky for so long and so many times she could have lost her already…

Blake pulls her leg away, her foot suddenly cold again as she gives up Yang’s heat. The shadows of their room seem far more sinister as she does this, reaching for them with sharpened talons and gnashing maws and unseen eyes.

She locks her eyes onto Yang’s lips, focuses her attention to the soft, relaxed breaths she takes, and tries to match them as she pulls the duvet over her frigid shoulders. Inhale, exhale. Inhale, exhale. It’s enough to keep the shadows from reaching them, safe in their bed with the covers stretching over them, and she still feels numb and cold with those thoughts scratching at her mind and her breathing picks up pace and her jaw clenches as she tries to keep those things in her mind from clawing any further—

Fingers curl around her arm, gentle and warm and good, and Blake leans into their hold just a little more as she calms her breathing again.

“Babe?” Yang’s hushed voice calls to her with concern. Her thumb strokes along Blake’s skin in delicate lines, leaving a trail of heat to keep the cold at bay.

Blake’s breaths finally even as those things crawl back into the shadows and she ignores their silent and spiteful hisses as she curls closer to Yang, their bodies in close embrace with nothing in between Blake and the soft, anchoring rhythm of Yang’s heartbeat.

Yang brings her forehead to Blake’s, and Blake keeps her eyes on Yang’s as she finds safety once again in the shimmer of lilac under her half-closed eyes. “I’m here, Blake. We’re here. Together.”

Blake sniffles, nods against Yang’s forehead. Yang’s lips pull into a slow, genuine smile before she removes her hand from Blake’s arm and brings it to her cheek, cupping it as her thumb wipes away a tear Blake hadn’t realised she’d shed.

“I’m here, babe,” she repeats soothingly as she continues to stroke Blake’s cheek, and Blake falls into the calm of Yang’s voice as it lulls away the fear.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, here I am again with what may be the last of these Dodie song fics! (I have another I'd like to write but frankly with all the other work I have to do I probably won't get to it.) I was defs a little hesitant to write this one cause after listening to this song for months I only recently found out that the song means something completely different than how I'd interpreted it. I ended up deciding to just go for it and write my original idea, especially since Dodie has said before this song can be interpreted in different ways. Hope you enjoyed!!


End file.
